Blood
by Darkness's Angel
Summary: Ironic. The entire war was over something as insignificant as blood, and yet it was all the same. Slight DHr


**Blood**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything related, J.K Rowling does.

**xxx**

Her hair was plastered to her face. Sweat and grime dripped down her legs and on to the ground. It seemed fitting it should rain at the very peak of the war, at the last battle. Looking down, she watched, fascinated as the mud mixed with the blood of her fallen comrades, and with her enemies. If she hadn't be so involved, she might have almost laughed at the irony. It was a war over blood, and there was more then enough of it all over the fields of Hogwarts.

Making her way through the sea of dark red and black, she looked almost desperately to find someone alive. She hadn't' seen Ron or Harry since the battle had started hours ago. She did not know whether they were alive and hiding., or dead and fallen somewhere.

Pushing the hair out of her face, she stopped walking. That's when she heard it, a soft murmur of a breath. The sound of life. Whispering a spell, she started walking towards it. As she got closer, her eyes widened. Professor Snape was lying in a pool of his own blood. He was breathing but barely. Kneeling down closer to her former professor, she took the time to really look at him. No one had seen or heard from him since that awful night that Dumbledore was killed. But to see him now, she _almost _felt sorry for him.

**Almost**.

Crouching down next to him, she brushed the dirt out of his eyes, so he could see her. She watched his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of her. "Granger," he murmured softly, "I should have known that I would be cursed to have you here now."

"It's so odd to be here Professor, at your weakest moment," she told him.

Snape coughed, and Hermione could see specks of blood flying in the air.

"I remember when you used to scare me, intimate me, call me names, treat me like dirt, and yet I am here now at your weakest moment," she remarked, "watching you die in you own pool of blood in the dirt."

"That's where you're wrong Granger, "he stated, "my weakest moment was long ago when I took that wretched mark. I don't believe you were alive then. Now why don't you grant a dying man his last request and let me die alone. You are a gryffindor are you not?"

Hermione shook her head. "Such a shame that you are going to die the same person you have always been. You haven't learned a thing being in Dumbledore's presence all that time," she told him.

He looked at her, about to say something. but Hermione watched as the light in his eyes went out. Shaking her head, she went to turn around, only to feel a sharp jab in her back.

"I wouldn't move if I was you mudblood."

Hermione immediately stiffened. Out of the corner of her eye, she could vaguely see a patch of silvery blonde hair. If his voice hadn't given him away, then that surely would have.

"What do you want Malfoy?" she asked, her voice hard.

He grabbed her by the arm, pushing her to the ground. His wand was still trained on her form. "I should kill you," he said in a low, quiet voice.

Hermione got into a kneeling position, her hand strategically placed where her wand was hidden. She wanted to see what he would do.

"Then what's stopping you?" she asked.

He just stared at her, a smirk forming on his lips. "You know, if you had been pureblood, we would have ended up engaged," he told her, almost wistfully. Then his face turned sour. "But you're not. You're a dirty little mudblood."

Something inside her just snapped. She bent her head down, her voice dangerously low. "Look around you Malfoy. It's all the same." She grabbed a handful of mud. Pulling herself into a standing position, she walked over to him. To stunned to know what she was doing, Malfoy didn't move when she came face to face with him. She took out the pocket knife Harry had given her before the battle had started, and sliced her wrist. Then she did the same to his. Looking him straight in the eyes, she said, "It's the same."

She was surprised when he didn't strike her for cutting him. Instead, Malfoy looked at his wounded wrist then back at hers. They were both starting to cover in red. What she did next however, shocked him even more. She took some mud that had been in her wounded hand, and mashed it on his cut, then did the same to her arm. "I guess this makes you a mud blood doesn't it? I suppose we are equals now."

Draco stared at his arm. It was the same. That four letter sentence still didn't wrap around his mind. If it was the same, that would mean everything that had been taught to him, everything that had been drilled into his head since he was a young child was wrong. That this whole war, that this battle was over something so insignificant. It was all for nothing. Malfoy tore his vision away from Hermione, and looked around them. He could see his aunt lying side by side with Neville, knowing he had died right after avenging his parents. He suddenly wished he had that courage. Not too far away was Hagrid and a vicious creature. He now wished he hadn't of called him a useless oaf all those times. Every decision he had made in the last seven years, suddenly didn't feel right. It felt cold, just like the mud dripping down his arm. It felt wrong.

Hermione watched Malfoy's face turn back into her own. She watched with what little patience she had left as his eyes shifted. Instead of the hard, cool glare she had been expecting, his eyes were filled with sorrow and regret. It was then that she knew he finally understood what had evaded him for so long. He finally understood that they were the same.

Gently, she put her hand out towards him. Malfoy stared at it for a second, then took it with his wounded one. Turning to stand side by side, they walked away.

**xxx**

**Author's Note: **Just a little something I came up with. Hope you guys like it. Please Review! )


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